I'll Be Your Strength If You'll Be Mine
by Yesm777
Summary: Adam and Jaz are separated from the rest of the team when the air strike hits. A little worse for wear, they must help each other until they reunite with the others. Hurt!Adam. Hurt!Jaz.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello, hello, hello. Got another tale here. Someone asked if I could write something where Jaz is sick too, and while I admit I'm not usually too great at fulfilling requests (my brain can't always build around an existing idea), I thought I'd at least give this one a go (though I'm sorry she's not exactly sick!). As a warning, there's some pretty strong language peppered lightly in here, so be warned! You're all gems. Live your best lives. And thanks for stopping by._

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**Chapter One**

There always seemed to be trouble. And this time wasn't any different.

Adam ran through the rubble, his boots landing on loose bricks and broken cement. His eyes followed Jaz in front of him, watching her footing as she skillfully traversed the rough terrain.

"ETA on pickup?" Adam asked breathlessly, glancing back at their pursuers.

_"We can't get through," _Preach reported, a hint of frustration in his voice. _"Even if we could, it would probably take us at least fifteen minutes to get the Humvee through all the mess."_

Hell, fifteen minutes at a time like this might as well be eternity. Adam looked at Jaz again. His only regret was that she wasn't with the rest of the team. Admittedly, he'd needed her sharp eye as much as he needed his own bird's-eye view. But that was then. After explosives rained down on the town, he'd immediately wished he'd been on that rooftop alone.

"Command, how far out is air strike?"

_"Thirty seconds," _Noah answered sharply. _"You have to get out of there."_

Adam's heart stuttered. There wasn't anything he could do. He stared at Jaz's back. Yes, she knew what she signed up for.

But wasn't his job to keep them all safe from the worst of it?

Still, he was only human. He couldn't control all the pieces. He couldn't control _this_. So he had to do what he could.

"Preach, reroute to safety." He was huffing now, half because he was running and half because he had to face the inevitable. "Jaz, we have to run faster."

"Got it," she replied curtly, pushing her speed. She knew what was awaiting them. They'd been through it before. But being upset about it wouldn't change anything. So they just had to keep going. They had to make their own way out of this.

Behind them, they could hear their pursuers keeping up a steady pace. With a little extra speed, they could create enough space to get out of danger.

But they only had thirty seconds to do it.

Less than that now.

"Go faster," Adam urged, pushing a hand against Jaz's back. She sprinted harder.

_"Ten seconds."_

_ "Get out of there, man_." Adam could hear the controlled panic in McG's voice, with Preach and Amir's breathing drifting over the comms.

_"Five seconds_."

Shit, they hadn't planned for local insurgents with explosives. Fuck, they hadn't planned for this.

Adam could only do his best. In something like this, he could only do his best.

And with just one second left on the clock, he put everything he had into Jaz's back.

He pushed her. If only to put her a couple yards further away from the air strike.

A couple yards was all he could give her.

It was all he could give.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

There was steady ringing first. Constant and solid. The high-pitched squeal sang through her ears. For a moment, she heard nothing else. Then her hearing slowly came back, along with the headache—and the allover pain of flying several feet in the air before reuniting with the earth.

Jaz squeezed her eyes shut as she slowly focused on her surroundings. The ringing faded, making way for the sound of crumbling building and crackling fires.

At the first sign of trouble, the townspeople had run, and for whatever reason, the insurgents only had eyes for her and Top. So the crowd had plenty of opportunity to get away.

That explained the otherwise eerie silence. The insurgents probably hadn't made it through the air strike. And if they had, they were probably deeply unconscious. But . . .

Top.

Her eyes snapped open, blood immediately dripping into her eye. She swiped at the crimson, breathing heavily. Her head was killing her now, but it didn't matter.

Pushing herself up, she felt a sting at her leg and stopped. She looked down at her calf. The cut was deep. Her pantleg was savagely ripped, revealing the bleeding mess beneath. She must've hit the rubble hard in the blast. And strangely, it didn't hurt. At least not yet.

Because all she could think was that Top was behind her.

She looked up, eyes trailing the dusty wreckage of the town, her leg forgotten. At first, she didn't see anything. She wiped away more blood from her eye, narrowing her gaze to focus. Everything was tilting a bit and blurry, but she wouldn't give up. She kept looking.

Wait . . . was that . . . ?

She stopped, squinting further.

Hair. It was dusty and nearly blended in with the rubble, but it was absolutely a person. It had to be Top.

Gritting her teeth, she crawled her way to him. Her leg was steadily starting to hurt now, the sting burning up her leg. As she moved, she swallowed grunts of pain. Blood was falling into her eye again, and her hair stuck to the wet red.

"Top," she called out, her voice ravaged by dust and possibly some slight trauma to her throat. She stretched a hand out to roughly shake his shoulder. Bricks and bits of building had fallen on top of him, and she painfully moved closer to quickly clear them away while continuing to shake him awake.

"Come on, Top," she muttered hoarsely. She could feel his hands on her back still, as if they'd burned their shape onto her skin. That was the last thing she remembered. Him pushing her. To get her further away.

And she also remembered the vehement _No! _that ran through her mind.

Jaz pressed two fingers against the soft spot of his neck, checking for a pulse.

She held her breath.

Then she felt the steady _thump thump _of a heartbeat.

He was alive. Even if he wasn't awake. She allowed herself a sigh.

"Wake up, Top. You can't leave me here alone."

Jaz continued to knock debris off him, but some chunks were too heavy to move at that angle, and others were out of reach. And really, the agony in her leg wasn't doing her any favors.

Huffing, she reached for her comm to see if it'd survived the blast.

But it wasn't there.

Must've been knocked out during her fall.

She looked for Adam's, finding his fit snugly in his ear, though a bit splattered with blood. Taking a deep breath, she pried it from his ear, fitting it into hers.

"Command?" she tried. "Preach?" Only static answered.

So her comm was lost. His was damaged. With Adam Dalton, the excitement never ended.

Frustrated, she clawed the comm out and threw it into the dust and debris.

Looking at her leg again, she could only hope the GPS trackers were still working. Even if walking was an option, it was going to be a slow journey. Damn, she felt weak. The world was spinning, and she could only hope to blink away the pain in her head. It didn't help. Neither did the blazing sunlight above her. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, allowing herself a soft whimper for the pounding in her leg.

"Come on, Top." She pushed herself up a little and gave him another shake. "Adam. You have to wake up." She thought back to Preach's coma and panicked a little. All those anxious days and nights . . . she couldn't do that again. And damn, her leg hurt so much. That just seemed to make all of this worse.

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I'm going to kick your ass if you don't wake up."

Silence.

Then a soft cough.

A little movement.

Bloody and bruised fingers wiggled and tightened. His head moved with a groan.

Relief flooded her chest, giving her a moment of reprieve. She sent a small prayer of thanks up to whomever was listening.

"Top, you with me?" She was so tired. So, so tired, and she'd only just woken up.

"D'we m'k' it?"

"What?"

With a little trouble, Adam lifted his head a bit, his eyes still closed. "Did w'make it?"

"Something like that," she replied, glancing around the crumbled ruins. Her leg was aching spectacularly now, throbbing in time with her headache. She gritted her teeth, breathing slowly to try and work through it and blinking harshly.

Sluggishly, he flexed his muscles and delicately moved his limbs. "Y'okay?"

Despite the pain, she smirked at his question, swiping another hand across her bloody brow. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Adam finally managed to open his eyes and look up at her, blinking against the sun. "Y're bleedin'."

"So are you," she challenged, looking at the scrape across his jawline and the blood in his hair. "You good?"

Adam didn't respond, instead trying to push himself up off the floor. Or at least . . . the rubble beneath him. He let out another groan as he turned himself onto his back, getting the remaining bricks off him in the process.

With a deeper cough, he moved to sit up, wincing as he pressed an arm against his torso, his hand splayed out over his chest.

"You okay, Top?" she asked, eyes already tracing the purpling on his fingers. There had to be at least a couple fractures in there.

"Think so," he answered hoarsely, coughing more of the dust out of his lungs. He blinked some more, looking down at her leg. "Your leg . . ."

Jaz reacted quickly. "Looks worse than it is." That could've been true, but she wasn't so sure. It was pretty deep. And yet, she didn't think it was deep enough to be immediately life-threatening. Still hurt like a bitch.

At the sight of her leg, Adam seemed to suddenly move faster, his battered torso forgotten as he dug in his cargo pockets for bandages. "Let's get it fixed up." He was started to speak more clearly now, though his voice was as abused as hers.

In all his movement, a little crimson caught her eye. She dropped her gaze to his abdomen, freezing in her tracks.

"Top."

He looked at her. "What?"

"You're hurt."

Confused, he looked down, his brow furrowing further at the bloodstain on his shirt.

Shrapnel was sticking out of him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Hello, hello. Here is the next chapter! I hope the wait wasn't too painful—Labor Day weekend ended up busier than I thought it'd be. You're all amazing and wonderful, and please enjoy this next installment. As always, thank you so much for stopping by (and thanks to those that took the time to leave such positive, kind reviews)._

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**Chapter Two**

There was metal stuck in Adam like a pin. A big, twisted pin. Right into his gut.

How had she missed it for this long?

"My leg is fine. You need help first," she said decidedly, trying desperately to push the aches away to narrow her focus. He shook his head, suddenly looking very tired. She'd seen that look before. When the shit hit the fan. In Tehran. In Nigeria. Paris. Ukraine. Might as well be all the time.

"No, we're wrapping your leg first."

Without a word, she inspected the rest of him, quickly finding tears in the legs of his pants, splattered with blood. And by the way he was breathing, he had to have bruised or cracked ribs.

What if he had internal bleeding?

Damn, she wished they had at least one comm between the two of them. If only to see where the rest of the team was.

She leaned a little to get a better look at his wound, seeing the shrapnel sticking out the back. Through and through. She swallowed thickly. "That doesn't look pretty."

He let out a sigh before ripping open packs of bandaging. She didn't miss the hard wince that passed over his face. Nor did she miss how he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. She could tell he was trying not to think about it. To not acknowledge it. Even while he worked around it.

"Look," he huffed, swiftly covering up his own discomfort. His voice was tight, and her sympathy doubled. "Compared to your leg and head, this thing's hardly bleeding. We prioritize by blood loss. And without McG here, we can't do much about the shrapnel anyway. So we're going to wrap that leg, bandage your head, and that's what we're going to do."

Jaz raised her eyebrows as she pursed her lips. Even with twisted metal in his gut and who knows what else, Adam sounded like the leader he's always been. He was using his stern CO voice, though it was weaker than usual, and that left only one thing for her to do: obey.

"You got it, Top," she answered quietly. She wanted to argue, but she knew there was no point. Adam had set his mind to this, and there was no stopping him now.

Jaz watched Adam prep the bandaging, gritting her teeth through waves of pain while breathing slowly. Eager to push past the ache, her eyes followed his bruised and bloodied fingers. By the way he was moving them, she could tell they were in bad shape. And yet, he was determined to take care of his people. To take care of her.

If it had been any other man on any other team, she would've refused. Because they'd do it out of pity. They'd do it because they thought she was weaker. More fragile. A delicate flower of a woman.

But Adam, any of the guys . . . they did it because she was their teammate. Their friend. Their family. She knew how much they respected her and valued her. In their eyes, she wasn't lesser or weaker.

And she had the funny feeling that if they had thought that, Adam wouldn't have chosen them for his team.

Jaz let out a tight growl as Adam pressed fresh gauze against her leg injury, carefully wrapping it snuggly against her skin. He was focused and careful, as with every task he undertook.

And as he finished up the bandaging, he paused, blinking. He touched his ear then turned to her. "Do you have a comm?"

With a heavy breath, she shook her head. She felt sweaty. Pain did stupid things. "Got knocked out when I fell, I think," she answered breathlessly, squeezing her eyes tightly to chase away the stabbing leg pain and the growing headache. "I took yours while you were still out, but it wasn't working." She grimaced apologetically. "I kind of threw it away out of frustration."

Adam's head dropped as he nodded quietly. "Okay, well . . . first things first." He looked up at her. "Let's take care of that head injury, huh? You look like a horror film."

Jaz smirked. "Can't be worse than that time in rural Ukraine."

A weary grin stretched across his face, mixing with creases of pain as white teeth stood out against dust and blood. "I wouldn't say it isn't."

The throb in her head quieted a little as she laughed. Getting hurt in the field generally sucked. She ached all over, and she wasn't going to be moving her leg again anytime soon. At least, not if she didn't have to. But fortunately, this time, she wasn't here alone.

As he was gently placing the bandage over her eyebrow, Adam stopped, settling a hand against his injured side as he took a few careful breaths.

"What's up?" she asked, instantly on high alert.

His answer was quick. Well-practiced. "It's nothing." Glossing over the moment, he continued taping gauze to her forehead, hiding away his pain. Both of them had high pain thresholds. You had to for this job. Pain sometimes got in the way, so ignoring it was often the only way to get things done.

But Adam was a man of a different kind. If any part of his team was in trouble, he would find superhuman strength to fight injury and discomfort to take care of things. It was both remarkable and insanely frustrating.

Yet Jaz was convinced it was more of a mask than a state of mind. He had to be feeling the pain. By the way his fingers moved. By the way he breathed. By the way he stiffly shifted his body . . . He felt it. She could tell. But he was good at putting on a strong front. He was excellent at pretending he was unbothered. That same skill came in handy numerous times when the rest of the team was, frankly, being annoying.

Or sometimes in her case, rebellious.

Her eyes fell to his bloody side. It seemed redder now, with a wider bloodstain.

"You got my leg and my head. Can we do something about your side now?"

He sighed, looking down at it. There was that tired look again. Though this time, it was accentuated by his paling face. Either he was losing quite a bit of blood somewhere or the pain was starting to get to him.

"It went all the way through," she reported smoothly. "But let's at least secure it so you don't rip the damn hole wider."

Adam let out a breathy chuckle. "Gee, your bedside manner's gotta be the best I've ever seen."

"Hey," she laughed, digging out a few of her own packets of gauze. "I've got to be direct to get through that thick skull of yours."

"You're going to make me blush with all this flattery," he countered, his hand settling on his chest again as he drew in a few breaths.

Jaz hid her newfound worry behind a smirk. "Well, be a dear and sit still, will you?"

He simply nodded, swaying a little.

"You okay, Top?"

Another nod. "Fine. I'm fine."

"'Cause it's just you and me out here. You have to tell me if something's wrong," she explained patiently, hurriedly tearing open a couple packets of rolled gauze. It was her turn to ignore the steady, angry throb in her leg. It was dying down the longer she kept it motionless, but it was still tough to push through the pain and focus on Adam.

He was blinking slowly, still drawing in deeper breaths than normal.

"Struggling to breathe?" she asked casually, enduring a spike of agony as she shifted closer to him.

Adam shook his head a little. "Just . . . talking too much."

With practiced ease, she pressed some bandaging against the wound, careful to avoid jostling the shrapnel. Adam inhaled sharply, jerking a little. So he did feel it. And he was feeling it enough that his defenses were down.

Ignoring the soreness in her own torso, she moved quickly to secure the twisted metal in place, wrapping gauze around his abdomen. Being so far into his personal space, she couldn't help but focus on his slow, measured breaths. Like he was trying to get a handle on his condition to reprioritize. To put her first.

She thought about his push to her back. To extend himself like that near any explosion . . . it would expose his body to so many dangers. And with him behind her, he had to have taken the brunt of the impact.

Jaz forced herself to focus on the present—on securing the shrapnel. Nearly done, she glanced up at Adam's face, unsurprised to find him with his eyes closed, engrossed in drawing in oxygen.

If only they had a comm. Just one.

"Hey, don't pass out on me," she demanded, finishing up her handywork. "Don't really want to sit here in silence."

"Good point," he muttered, wincing a little.

She inspected the bandaging, somewhat satisfied with the result. She'd be more satisfied if they weren't out here. In the rubble. Relying on whatever gauze they had in their cargo pockets.

"How long do you think it will take them to get here?" she asked, gingerly sitting up straight.

Adam shook his head, opening his eyes to look up at the sky. "Preach said maybe fifteen minutes. But that was before the air strike. Might be more now."

With a smile, Jaz gently nudged Adam's shoulder. "If they go by foot, we might as well take a nap. Amir's little legs will hold everyone back."

The blond let out a chuckle, weary and low. "That poor, poor man." He stared out over the demolished town, squinting at the distance. "Well, maybe I can walk toward their general direction. Meet 'em halfway.

Jaz couldn't hide her horrified expression. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Look, we can't be sure if our GPS trackers are working, and who knows how much the blast has messed things up. I mean, I can't see the damn light on my equipment. Can you?"

She looked down. Nope. No light.

"And with your leg like that, you're not going anywhere."

"Oh, don't give me that," she snapped. "You've got some dirty metal sticking out of your gut _and _back. If you're getting up and walking, then so am I."

"Jaz, don't—"

"You won't convince me out of this one, Top. If you're going, I'm coming with. I don't care if my leg is _broken_, I'm not letting you walk out there by yourself."

"I'll be fine."

"Oh, yeah? Wanna tell me again how breathless and dizzy you were just a second ago?"

"Wasn't dizzy."

"If you're going to lie, Top, at least pick a lie that's harder to spot."

He stopped at that, staring at her with hard eyes. Steel met fire, and she was determined to turn up the heat.

"I come with you, or you don't go at all," she said dangerously. He kept his eyes on hers for a while, as if hoping she'd back down with a little intimidation.

But he knew her better than that.

With a sigh, he looked away. "Fine. But I don't like it."

"Didn't say you had to."

Adam peered out over the rubble again. "Anybody tell you you're stubborn?"

She smirked. "One of my best qualities."

He leveled a look at her, humor dancing in his eyes behind the fatigue. "Well, if we're going to do this, then let's get a move on."

After a few moments to collect himself, he moved to stand, having a little trouble with his chest and injured side. Jaz knew if she didn't get herself upright by the time he did, he'd try to help her stand.

And with his condition? She couldn't allow it.

Finding some leverage, she relied on her arms and one leg to get her up, keeping an eye on Adam all the while. Pushing herself, she managed to stand. But her headache quickly grew worse, and the world tilted a little. Across from her, it looked like Adam was having much of the same experience.

"You good?" he asked, still trying to find his post-explosion legs.

"Are _you_ good?" she replied, her voice husky. Her vision was righting itself now, though her headache didn't really fade. Of course, her leg felt like it was on fire, but she wasn't about to give in.

"More or less," he answered hoarsely. A wince flashed across his face, and from the two experimental steps he took, she could see a slight limp.

"This would go faster if I had a crutch. And I have a feeling you could use one too," she stated smoothly, raising her eyebrows.

He sighed, quickly understanding. "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea."

After a few wobbly steps of her own, she managed to get an arm over his shoulders while he secured an arm around her waist. Then . . . they walked.

And it was slow.

And painful.

Jaz's leg practically burst with pain at every tiny step she took, and she could tell Adam was hurting from the way he moved. It felt like he was unsteady on his feet, but she couldn't be sure. Red was already seeping through the gauze in his side, and any visible bruising was just growing darker with the passing minutes.

Looking at her own leg, she could see the blood bleeding through the white bandaging. And her head . . . hell, her head. It felt like her brain was being jabbed by dull stakes.

It was clear they were in bad shape. But they were also too stubborn to admit they felt terrible.

Worried, she glanced at Adam. He was blinking a slow blink, and her panic ratcheted.

"You okay?" What if he did have some kind of internal bleed? What could she do?

She definitely felt his swaying now. She thought fast.

"Leg hurts. Let's sit." She knew she was being abrupt, but all she could think was that Adam was swaying, so he shouldn't be standing. And the best way to make the man do anything was to convince him he was doing it to help someone he cared about.

And it worked.

Slowly but steadily, the two of them sat down on sizable chunks of demolished building, Jaz's eyes never leaving those sluggish blinks.

"Top?" Worried, she set a hand on his shoulder. "Feeling okay?" She was starting to feel like a broken record, but she had to ask. With no one else out here, Adam was her priority. So she had to be sure he wasn't spiraling into a medical emergency.

"Yeah, just . . ." He slowly rubbed at his eyes. "Just tired all of a sudden."

She swallowed a scoff. All of a sudden? Yeah, right.

"I feel pretty good about sitting," she said, eyes already scanning the terrain for a Humvee or three familiar humans. No luck so far.

"Your leg hurt?" His voice was quiet. Worn. But his eyes were concerned and genuine.

"Probably not any more than your side does," she replied, eager to keep the attention off herself. Gingerly, she put a hand to her head, hoping the small gesture would take away some of the ache. Of course, it didn't.

Adam gave her a look. "I didn't ask about me. I asked about you."

She fought the urge to grimace. Typical Top.

"Yeah, it hurts. But it's fine," she answered reluctantly.

"How's your head?"

Jaz narrowed her eyes in a glare. He knew she hated it when he did this—mothering her. So why did he still ask? Probably couldn't help himself. "It's fine."

She could see the pained lines in his face, hard and deep. And still, he tried so hard to smooth them away. But if she didn't know him so well, he could've fooled her.

"How's your gut?" she asked quietly. Reverently. She never forgot how vulnerable Adam was. But some times were harder than others.

She didn't want to lose him. She wasn't ready for that.

Jaz took a closer look at him. Damn, he was starting to look paler and paler. Who gave a shit about her leg and head? One of the best people she'd ever known was sitting here with shrapnel in his belly and a litter of other injuries he'd never admit to. And out here—out here in forsaken lands of violence and hatred—anything could happen.

"It's okay," he answered tightly, attempting a smile. Somehow, he still managed that cheerful glitter in his eyes, but the curve to his lips didn't quite land.

He swayed slightly, his eyelids growing heavy. Suddenly frightened he'd collapse, she grabbed his bicep, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Startled by the movement, he looked at her, confused. "Jaz . . . I'm all right. I'm fine."

"How can I believe you?" she ground out, staring bravely into his foggy eyes. "You always say your fine. Always. And all I want is some _honesty_."

His eyes cleared a little as he searched her gaze. She could see it all in there. The guilt, the worry, the desperate desire to take her pain away.

"You say it automatically every time," she continued. "You're always fine. But you aren't, Top. You aren't. You have a piece of dirty debris _through_ your gut and broken fingers and bruises and cracked ribs and cuts and—"

She stopped her heated tirade, angrily trying to blink back hot tears. When she spoke again, her voice was smoother. Calmer. Quieter. "You're starting to sway without knowing it. And the look in your eyes . . . sometimes you're not really _here_. And you don't even know it."

Adam simply stared at her for a moment, taking in the frustrated fear on her face as he let her words settle in his mind. Slowly, he turned his body toward her, wincing heavily against the movement. "Okay." He looked down at the ground. "You're right." His eyes found hers. "I don't feel . . . great. Frankly, I feel like I've been sandwiched between bits of building. And maybe things aren't looking too good. But I'm still here. And if I can help it, I'm not going anywhere."

She pursed her lips. "If you say so."

Adam nodded, looking at the ground again. "I think we both know I'd never willingly leave you here alone."

Jaz thought back to the fruit truck after her imprisonment in Tehran. She remembered Adam behind her, offering a silent presence of strength. Even without a word, he managed to make her feel safe. And at her core, she'd known how hard he fought to get her there. To get her home.

So yes, she knew he'd fight to stay here with her.

Her frown softened, but she kept her lips in a tight line. "You better not leave me here alone."

He managed a warm smile, even through the dust and blood on his face. Then his gaze shifted, his eyes growing wide.

In an instant, he shot to his feet. And as he rushed past her, he shoved her aside.

Like they were in danger.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Hello, hello! Chapter three is heeeere. I hope you enjoy. :)_

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**Chapter Three**

Alarmed by Adam's shove on her shoulder, Jaz turned to look.

Her eyes met a rifle. Aimed at her.

And for a few slow seconds, there was no sound. There was just the muzzle of the rifle staring back at her. Swirled in the dizzy wobble of her vision.

Then Adam collided with the gunman.

The two men fell hard to the loose rubble, the subsequent thud painfully audible.

Panicked, Jaz stood quickly, losing her balance as pain burned hot and fast through her leg. She fell to her knees with a cry, black spots clouding her eyes. Desperate, she blinked them away, anxiously scrambling to her feet. There was a jolt of agony through her shin as it scraped against a poorly placed chunk of cement, and a scream of pain ripped from her throat.

But she pressed on. Because Adam was in trouble. She could only hear the scuffles in the debris, punctuated with grunts and growls.

Stumbling through the rubble, Jaz moved quickly, hastily navigating the teetering world in front of her. Her head felt light and heavy at the same time, and still, it wouldn't stop her. She grappled for her sidearm, unsure if she could actually aim properly when she was this dizzy.

She didn't want to hit Adam.

When she was close enough, Jaz latched her free hand onto the other man, pulling with everything she could muster to tear him away from Adam. Somehow, she'd found a forgotten reserve of strength, successfully yanking the man away.

Then there was a loud cry of pain.

For a second, she wasn't sure if it was her or someone else. Then it clicked. She knew that familiar tone.

Adam.

She glanced in his direction, eyes catching fresh red on his side.

Her stomach dropped past her heels.

Quickly refocusing on the danger at hand, she gripped her sidearm tighter, blinking through the spins and turns in her vision.

And a hand clamped tightly over her injured calf.

Jaz yelled as her legs nearly crumbled, her knees shaking. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her an extra edge as she scraped her core for whatever she had left. With a growl, she tried tugging her leg from their assailant, gritting her teeth through each wave of pain. His fingers dug in further, pressing hard against torn nerves.

Desperate to escape, she got a proper grip of her pistol and aimed.

But someone fired before she could.

Confused, she checked herself for a bullet hole, even more perplexed when she found nothing. Then she realized the grip on her leg had fallen away, leaving only a steady throb. Her gaze dropped to the stranger.

She didn't have to look twice to know he was dead.

There was a sharp clatter, startling her as she whipped her head to the left.

Adam's sidearm lay forgotten in the rubble, both of his hands shakily pressed against a fresh well of blood in his side.

Blood. Slipping between his fingers. Staining the pale and bruised skin over his knuckles.

The shrapnel was gone.

Shit, the shrapnel was _gone_.

Still shaking from the bolting ache in her leg, she dizzily hiked over debris to get to him. There were only a few feet between them when her toe caught a stray brick. And she fell. Hard. Her aching body harshly struck the rubble, leaving her disoriented and in agony.

It would've been easier to give up. She could've just laid there, letting the pain wash over her.

But Adam wouldn't. So she wouldn't.

Sluggish but determined, she pushed herself up, whimpering as she forced herself to Adam's side. Hot tendrils of pain shot through her leg, connecting with the steady throb in her head.

She felt only half conscious, but it was enough to focus on the slippery crimson between Adam's fingers.

"Top?" she huffed hoarsely, one trembling hand settling on his shoulder. Adam laid on his back, breathing heavily and painfully. His eyes were screwed shut as his hands pressed weakly at his side.

Her vision grayed out for a moment, but she furiously willed it back into focus, hands already reaching for his injury.

"Let me see, let me see," she muttered wearily, pushing away his hands. Holding them aside, she took a look at his abdomen, swallowing thickly at the open wound. How had the shrapnel been dislodged completely? Anxious, she looked around, eyes stopping on a familiar glint of metal.

It was gripped firmly in the dead man's hand, glistening with Top's blood.

A groan brought her back into focus, warmth spilling over her fingers. She looked back down. There was so much red. Shit, there was so much red.

"Hang in there, Top. You said you wouldn't leave me here alone," she huffed, frantically pressing one hand against the wound as she dug into her pocket for bandaging. She had a limited supply. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to do anything. The black spots were multiplying, and she was quickly growing closer to passing out.

Determined to stay in the present, she ripped open gauze and packed the wound in the front with half of what she had. Without apology, she pushed Top to his side, trying to ignore the moans of pain as she did the same to the back.

This wasn't fair. This just wasn't fair.

Wasn't an abdominal wound bad enough as it was? Why this? Why now?

Without waiting, she set to wrapping the wound, carefully moving Adam as needed to get the rolled gauze snuggly around him. With both packing and wrapping, she'd used all the gauze they had left, and it was a fairly minimal bandaging job.

So right now, there wasn't much else she could do.

She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers, blood already crusting on their fingers. His hand shook in her own trembling grip, unsteady with adrenaline, pain, and blood loss.

"Top, you still with me?"

He was staring at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing under control. From the looks of it, he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, barely hanging on to the present.

But he looked like he was desperately trying to cling to what little control he had left.

Jaz held his hand tighter.

"You can't leave me here, Top. You said you wouldn't."

All that answered was strained breathing.

Half of her wished it had been only her against the gunman. But the other half was grateful Adam had seen the man at all. And she knew Adam's reaction was just part of his nature. He was a protector. A man ready to sacrifice himself for another. Jumping up to wrestle with the gunman hadn't even been a question in his mind. It was something he had to do.

She knew that.

And it was something she both respected and absolutely despised.

As she tightly gripped his hand, her head felt lighter and dizzier. Her vision tilted, and her head bobbed. Jaz's painful trek to get to Adam and her short wrestle with the gunman was finally taking its toll. Her head throbbed. Her leg ached.

Quickly growing dizzier, her head steadily drooped until it rested against Adam's shoulder.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes.

And then she was out.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Jaz."

She wasn't quite sure what was going on at first.

"Jaz."

It felt like she was underwater, struggling to get back to the surface.

"Jaz, you with me?"

A light blazed in her eye, and she quickly recoiled to get away from it.

"Hey now. I'm just making sure you didn't hit your head too hard."

Someone forced her other eye open, hitting it with the light. She jerked back harder this time, quickly regretting it as it jostled her head.

"Can you get up?"

She squinted, looking up. McG.

McG?

Jaz looked down, suddenly realizing her hands were empty. Top's hand wasn't in them anymore. Panic fluttered against her ribcage as she quickly looked to McG. "Where's Top?"

"Boys are loading him into the Humvee," he answered. His expression was grave, speaking volumes. She did everything she could to tamp down her wild fear.

"Can you get up?" McG repeated, looking more and more concerned by the minute.

It took a few seconds for the question to register. She looked down at her leg. It was bloodier now. The bandaging had been moved and torn a little, exposing some of the wound. "Probably not by myself."

As she shifted to stand, McG quickly stopped her. "Hey, hey. Take it easy. Let us help you." He waved Amir over before getting a firm grip on one of her arms. Amir took the other and the two of them steadily helped her to the Humvee, getting her into the backseat.

She froze when she saw Adam.

He was laid over the flat center of the Humvee, unconscious and pale. She retraced the cut at his hairline, the split lip, the scrape along his jaw. Her stare shifted to his abdomen, and she let it linger. Crimson was smeared on his shirt. On the bandages. On his hands.

She looked down.

It was on her hands too.

McG climbed into the very back, hands already on Adam as he rechecked his pulse and probed for other injuries. Amir slid into the other backseat, his posture anxious. Jaz looked at him, catching his eyes. She'd seen that look before. Those dark orbs so soft and full.

Amir was a unique person. His hard stare was as intimidating as the best of them—if not more. And then there were times, like this, where his face would be so honest and open. Sympathetic. Vulnerable.

She'd learned to appreciate that softer side. The nurturer behind the sharp intellect and deadly dedication.

And now, looking into those soft eyes, she could feel that familiar comfort in waves. It was what made that morning shakshuka so delicious. Amir wasn't just one of them now; he was part of what made their home . . . home. And he brought it with him wherever they went, like they all did.

She couldn't be more grateful to have him in the back of the Humvee with her. That silent comfort was something she needed, even if she was afraid to admit it.

When he spoke, it came out gently and quietly. "You okay, Jaz?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, biting the inside of her lip. In the beginning, she was so determined to hate Amir because he replaced her best friend. And even then, he was so patient and understanding. In some ways, that made her hate him more.

Now, she wished they'd been friends sooner.

Her eyes shifted to Adam's hand beside her. Black and blue bruises stood out on a couple of his fingers, with tiny cuts biting into the skin. Wordlessly, she took his hand in one of hers, careful not to move the injured fingers too much.

Jaz glanced up at Amir, but he wasn't looking.

Yet, she knew he'd seen. He was just respecting her feelings and privacy. And that alone summed up who Amir was as a person. Considerate and respectful. Always knowing what people needed.

There was a jerk as Preach stomped on the gas pedal, and the slight jostling had Jaz hissing in pain.

Amir was on high alert in an instant. "You alright?"

"Fine," she growled, moving her leg a little to find a more comfortable position.

"Sit tight. Once we get to where we're going, I'll take a look at that leg, okay?" McG explained. He was pressing down on Adam's bloody side, hoping to stem more of the bleeding.

Jaz huffed, moving her gaze to look at Adam's pale face. "Top's priority."

She could feel McG's reverent stare on her, but she didn't dare look back. They didn't have to study her hard to see the turmoil in her expression. In her posture. Because they'd all been there themselves at one point or another.

So they could imagine what it was like out there. Injured. Without backup. Watching Adam fade away while trying to stay awake yourself.

Jaz felt Amir's silent comfort again, softly washing over her.

"I'll take care of him," McG answered softly, his voice soothing.

All her guys were here.

So at least she didn't have do this alone anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I know, I know . . . it's been a really long time. I am sorry, and thank you all for your patience. It has been many weeks of stress and being generally upset. A bunch of stuff went down at work that made life kind of scary to handle for a bit, but I think it's starting to normalize, so I'm getting back into writing. Again, so sorry for the wait, and thank you for being patient with me._

_Anyway, on with the tale. (And I promise I truly am working on the next chapter.)_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Amir kept Jaz in his peripheral, only glancing over when he was sure she couldn't see him. Behind him, McG was working tirelessly on Adam, further packing the wound to at least slow the bleeding.

So while McG focused on Adam, Amir would keep an eye on Jaz.

He kept a close watch on her leg, keeping track of the red seeping through dirty bandaging. Every now and then, he'd see her eyes glaze over, as if she wasn't quite all there. In her haze, she'd even pulled her hand from Adam's.

But McG had already ruled out a head injury . . . right?

Amir's worry ratcheted. He snuck more glances. He looked more closely.

A familiar fear burrowed into his chest, settling against his beating heart. No matter how many injuries or risks the team took, this never got easier.

It would never get easier.

Amir looked at Adam's face, his stomach swirling at the distinct lack of color. He thought this gut-eating anxiety and fear would go away once they found them. But how could he be so naïve?

Once the airstrike hit, he'd stopped breathing. And he didn't remember to draw a breath until thirty long seconds had gone by. Amir remembered speaking into his comm. He remembered _screaming _into his comm. There was no answer. No groans. No whispers. No static. Just dead air, empty and all-consuming.

For a moment, no one spoke. Not a single word.

Then they were driving. And they were looking.

And they looked for what seemed like an eternity.

Amir wondered if they'd ever see their teammates again. He wasn't sure what had kept him going; he felt so defeated, it just seemed easier to give up. But he didn't. And neither did Preach. Nor McG.

Just when they felt lost in all the rubble, they heard a gunshot echo through the air. Anxiously, they sped toward it.

Amir would never forget how they'd found them. The image was tattooed into his memories forever. For a fleeting moment, he thought they were dead. Dead. Adam was motionless, nearly bone white, and Jaz was lying against his chest, as if she'd simply collapsed there. And lying next to them was clearly the corpse of an attacker. Amir had seen the sharp metal in the dead man's hand. He'd seen the glistening red on silver.

Terror had clung to Amir's ribs, tightening its claws around his chest. He stopped breathing again, watching McG with anxious eyes.

When the medic announced they were alive . . . Amir had never felt a deeper relief.

Back in the present, his eyes found Jaz again, carefully watching the fog in her eyes. She blinked it away, as if determined to be in the here and now. But it was clear her body was begging for rest.

"Try to get some sleep, Jaz," he urged. Quietly. Calmly. He was trying to be strong for her, but it was difficult to scrape enough energy to be that rock of support.

Unsurprisingly, she shook her head, glaring out the window. But her glare was weak and weary. It had no real strength behind it.

In the back, McG was stuffing more gauze into Adam's wound, whispering heatedly to the team leader. He was trying to be quiet to keep from worrying the rest of the team. But it wasn't working. It was clear the situation was dire, and McG's frantic mumbling only made it clearer.

"A medical team is already en route, and McG's got a handle on things in the meantime. You need the rest," Amir muttered patiently. He actually wasn't entirely sure if McG _did _have things under control. But that wasn't the point. Right now, Jaz needed stability. So he'd keep it together. For her.

"_No_." Her answer came out heated and low. "I'm not going to _settle down for a nap_. Not when Top's like . . ." She looked back. ". . . like _this_." Jaz shifted her gaze to stare directly into Amir's eyes. "You didn't see him out there. He could barely stand. He had at least a foot of shrapnel _through _his side. And he pushed it all aside _for me_."

Amir pressed his lips together. No, he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

"If Top dies . . . " For a brief moment, Jaz's face crumpled, but it was immediately smoothed away behind a mask of strength. "If he dies . . . I want to make sure I'm awake for it. He deserves that much."

_And so much more_, Amir thought. He understood. He knew where she was coming from. They all did. In the field, respect was invaluable. And Adam had theirs. Always.

Silently and smoothly, Amir stretched his hand toward Jaz, his palm open, promising comfort. For a moment, she simply stared, attempting to decide what to do. She and Amir were still trying to find what it meant to be friends. Her initial attitude toward him complicated that even more. But even so, she knew he had only the best intentions. In the time they'd known each other, he had always been kind and honest—and sometimes very protective.

Reluctantly, she put her hand in his, letting his fingers curl around hers.

The grip was immensely grounding.

It offered reassurance. Understanding. Silent support. So much was conveyed in just the one gesture. And it was so genuine and somehow so strong, it brought tears to Jaz's eyes.

Her gaze found Amir's, and by the softness in his, she knew he understood. Possibly even more deeply than her other teammates. And for that, she was _grateful_. It brought a unique peace to her mind. Just to know that someone was on your side and could understand . . . it provided relief that couldn't be described.

"I'll help you stay awake," he promised, those heavy-lidded eyes gentle and compassionate.

Jaz wished they'd been friends sooner.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It had been only ten minutes, but it felt more like ten hours.

McG's hands were smeared with crimson. His fingers left bloody smudges on everything he touched: Gauze packages. His backpack. Top's face. Shit, he was getting blood on practically everything.

He glanced up, finding Amir's hand resting comfortingly on Jaz's arm. Top knew what he was doing when he picked the little guy: Amir was a perfect fit for the team. It was tough for anybody to tame Jaz's passionate emotions. Out of McG, Preach, and Adam, Adam usually had the best luck.

But Amir seemed to connect with Jaz on a different level entirely. It was nice to know someone could be there for the tough sniper when Adam couldn't.

Breathing deeply, the medic pressed his fingers against the inside of the team leader's wrist. His pulse was thready, but still there. And in a Humvee driving through a forsaken pile of rubble, he considered that a tremendous win. But still not enough to make any of this better. He was doing his best, but even fast wound packing and steady pressure wouldn't put blood back into Adam's body. It wouldn't add to the little life he had left. It would just hold onto it tighter.

McG glanced at the dark bruising painted across Adam's ribs. He hated this. Always hated it. He didn't hate being a medic—that wasn't it at all. He took a lot of pride in his work, and he found a lot of satisfaction in helping people. And when it came to his own team, he was happy he could be of use in a bad situation.

But his stomach still turned when someone he cared about got hurt. He still hated to see his teammates in bad shape. Yet he'd swallow his panic to focus on the job at hand.

And looking at Adam, it was hard to keep the fear of loss at bay. The man was so pale. Unresponsive. Practically empty.

"Don't you give up on me," McG breathed quietly, trying to hide his vulnerabilities behind anger. Frustration. Anything, really. "You hold on as long as you have to. You better hold on."

The rest of the team always put their complete trust in McG for any medical situation. Most of the time, it brought him comfort and warmth. But for times like this, when the line between success and failure was paper-thin and brittle, it felt like a weight on his lungs. He felt like he was drowning, and in some ways, he felt alone.

The question that would sat at the forefront of his mind was, _What if I can't save them?_

McG focused on breathing slowly, keeping steady pressure against Adam's bloody side. He had to remain calm. For Adam. For the rest of the team.

But hell, what if he really _couldn't _save Adam?

The medic's eyes darted between his other teammates. Preach was staring intently at the road, and Amir and Jaz were buried in their own heavy thoughts.

If McG failed. Would they blame him?

Deep down, he knew they wouldn't. But that little voice in his head pressed the question, burning it against the front wall of his mind. And honestly, he wasn't sure he could save Adam this time.

_Don't you dare give up on me, Top_, he thought, returning his attention to the team leader. Certain the bleeding was somewhat under control, he quickly started an IV of fluids, holding the bag up in one hand as he pressed against the wound with the other. Even with an IV and such focused attention . . . Adam's odds were low. With every passing minute, they got lower.

And again, McG felt like he was drowning. Alone. And there was nothing his other teammates could do to help.

_The two of us just have to make it to the medical team, _McG coaxed internally, eyes locked on Adam's face. _We're in this together, Top. I'll be damned if I let you die today._

He couldn't fail.

He wouldn't.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The Humvee skittered and slid down the road, traversing the loose dirt and gravel beneath it. Now that they were out of the worst of the rubble, Preach was doing his best to be fast but still in control, and the rest of them were just trying to deal with the sloppy movement of the vehicle.

In the back, McG firmly held onto Adam, keeping him from sliding with each harsh turn. And in the middle, Amir had one arm reached over to tightly grip Jaz's arm and keep her upright. She was starting to fade now, only half aware. He'd tried to keep her awake, like he promised he'd do, yet now, nothing was working.

But they were so close. Within reach. Other military vehicles were ahead, the medical team hopefully among them. They just had to get there.

Amir looked back at McG. The medic's expression was tight with concern and . . . fear. Overwhelming fear.

Trying to calm the sudden spike in his own emotions, Amir turned to the front, watching the bumpy road ahead. His eyes caught on red.

A red plus sign.

A red cross.

Medics.

His grip on Jaz's arm tightened, but she didn't notice. She was more unconscious than she was conscious, and damn, if that didn't scare the hell out of Amir.

He'd assumed it was just exhaustion. But what if it was something else?

Shit, what if it was something else?  
He looked back again, this time looking at McG's blood-covered hands as he messily pressed gauze against Adam's wound. The taller man was still holding up the bag of fluids, trying his best to swap between holding onto Adam and pressing onto crimson gauze with one hand. He looked exhausted but focused. As if he was trying to pretend he wasn't terrified.

But Amir could see past that.

Because _he _was terrified.

The Humvee slid to an abrupt stop, and Amir had to almost leap across the center divide to keep Jaz from hitting the front seat. Gently, he rested her against her seat and quickly moved to get out of the vehicle. Before his feet even hit the dirt, Preach was at Jaz's door, delicately pulling her from the Humvee as medics descended on her. The back was pulled open and medics quickly moved to retrieve Adam, with McG barking stats and current treatment as he handed the IV bag to another man.

He handed the bag to _another man_.

Amir's eyes followed the bag, only glancing at McG.

McG was putting his trust in these strangers completely.

But if _he_ could trust them, so could Amir.

Feeling helpless, Amir watched the medics cart his teammates away. They were moved out of sight, loaded into an already running truck. He knew he had to let it happen. Knew this was best for them. But it felt wrong to leave them with other people. Felt like he was abandoning them somehow.

"Come on, Amir," Preach urged, clasping a warm hand on his shoulder. "We're going to ride in the truck with them."

It took a minute for Preach's words to sink in. Amir had expected to ride separately in the Humvee. But if he'd heard Preach right . . .

His shoulders dropped in relief.

He didn't have to abandon them after all.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Preach and Amir stood against the wall while McG helped the other medics. They'd made it to a military hospital in almost no time at all, and while Adam had been whisked away for surgery, Jaz was taken to a room to have her leg cleaned and stitched.

And somehow, McG had talked the nurses into letting them back with Jaz.

So for now, Preach could only stand by and wait.

He was happy to be here, at least, if he couldn't be with Adam. He wished someone could've been, just to keep eyes on the team leader. But he knew with an injury like Adam's, that wouldn't be possible.

It ate away at Preach.

He'd seen a lot in the time he'd known Adam. The man had a penchant for trouble. He had always been the type to fall on a grenade for everyone else—to such an extreme that Preach wondered if there was something more than selflessness to Adam's self-destructive behavior. And it's what kept Preach's worry alive with every mission and task.

And yet, he knew that Adam would want him to be here, with Jaz, right now. So he stayed. He watched over her. For Jaz . . . and for Adam.

McG was unwrapping the bandaging around Jaz's leg, being quick but careful. As the last of the blood-stained white was peeled away, the could see her wound in full view. The flesh was roughly torn, leaving a deep gash on the side of her leg. It would've been agony to walk on, let alone endure quietly. Preach could almost feel the ripped nerve endings in his own leg.

McG's face darkened as he helped clean the wound. Much of the time, the taller man had a joke on his lips and a smile at the ready. But when it came to the team's health, he became so focused. It was almost like he was a different person.

Or maybe not so much a different person as the same man arming himself for battle. A battle of a different kind. Preach took a deep breath.

His spirits fell further as he watched a nurse start a blood transfusion. This mission wasn't supposed to be this . . . complicated. Watching them sew up Jaz was bad enough. He could only imagine what was happening to Adam right now.

A strange feeling pumped against his chest. He felt oddly uneasy outside of his general worry, and he couldn't pinpoint why.

Then—chaos.

Jaz awoke with a gasp, suddenly thrashing as she cried out in pain. Amir and Preach stepped forward to help calm her as McG did the same.

But then Preach saw it.

Outside, personnel ran frantically down the hall with supplies. With a bag of blood. Down where they had taken Adam.

"Stay with her," he swiftly instructed Amir, heading straight out of the room and down the hall. Blood pumped in his ears, keeping time as his breathing echoed alongside the frantic heartbeat.

That's when he heard it.

A single, long beep.

Flatlining.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Salutations, delightful humans. I've done it again, and I feel like such an irresponsible flake: I'm so sorry it took forever for me to post this. October has turned out to be an emotional roller coaster in a lot of ways. There's been tragedies, bittersweet memories, and wonderful social experiences. It has been . . . a swirl of everything life has to offer. So I offer my sincerest apologies, and I thank you for your kind patience! It can be immensely frustrating waiting for the next chapter of a story, so thank you so much._

_Anyway, on with the tale, my friends._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

All Preach could hear was the high-pitched, steady beep.

Clean. Uninterrupted.

Solid.

His brain kicked into overdrive. Adam couldn't be gone yet, could he?

He listened to the medical team on the other side of the door communicating frantically. He heard the unmistakable whine of a defibrillator. The doors were thin. It was a basic hospital at best made from cheap materials and simple blueprints.

And Preach found himself hating those thin doors. He hated how close he could stand to the operating room.

And he hated there were windows to those thin OR doors. Because he couldn't keep himself from looking.

His feet dragged him to the glass and he reluctantly looked in.

Just in time to see the jolt of the defibrillator.

Adam's body jerked with the electricity, and the movement felt violent and desperate to Preach. It left a mark on his memory he wasn't ready for. An image of Adam he could never un-see. An image he'd remember every time he looked at the blond.

But the beep persisted.

And the whine of the defibrillator started again.

They gave him another jolt. Preach flinched. Painfully. Crumbling under the very idea that maybe Adam was too far gone.

More of the steady beep.

Another electric whine.

A third zap of the defibrillator.

Preach looked away, as if slapped. The long beep continued, loud and cruel. He knew what this meant. A man could only be shocked so much.

Preach wished he could block out the sound of that awful flat line. It pierced his eardrums. Felt like a scream in his ears. His heart was steadily tearing. Adam was gone. They'd made it to the hospital, but he was gone.

He'd disappeared behind that flat line.

. . . There was a pleasant blip. A familiar sound.

The sound of a heartbeat. And another. And another.

Adam was back. He'd made it.

Preach forced himself to look again. To see the rhythm on the monitor for himself. To truly see that Adam was alive.

That he was still here.

He looked at Adam's face. Half of it was hidden behind an anesthetic mask, and the rest was pale and lax. The urgent buzz of the medical team died down as they fell back into their usual tasks. And they were careful. Gentle. Respectful of the human life on their table.

And that was all Preach could ask for.

He wanted to stay, but as soon as the panic had begun to die down, he again heard Jaz's cries down the hall. Heard her fear. And her pain.

Preach looked back at Adam. He knew where he was supposed to be, but he felt so torn. He knew where Adam would tell him to be.

But he couldn't leave. Not now.

And then a thought pervaded his mind. Did Adam sometimes feel like this? Feeling pressured to be everywhere at once, regardless of his own feelings?

Preach knew, in a situation like this, Adam would've left. He would've gone to Jaz. He would've had to prioritize by who he could help rather than his own feelings.

But Preach . . . he couldn't. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Adam. Couldn't bear the thought of not being here if something else happened. Part of it was his deep respect and care for Adam. But the other part was his own selfishness; if anything happened to Adam while he was away, Preach would never get over that. He'd carry on. He'd still live his life. But he'd never get over Adam's lonely death. He knew that. Knew himself well enough to understand what he felt.

And maybe that made him a lesser man than Adam. But Preach also knew Adam wouldn't fault him for being true to himself.

So here he would stay, keeping a watchful eye over the team leader. He'd simply have to put his trust in Amir and McG.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Amir tightly gripped Jaz's hand, hoping to offer some kind of anchor. He could see the confusion in her eyes, brushed over with fearful rage. She was falling back on her fighting spirit in an unfamiliar situation—something they all understood.

But this wasn't just confusion. Amir could feel her pain too. McG had been sure to administer local anesthetic to her leg before they started stitching her up, yet surviving a nearby airstrike was sure to come with bumps and bruises. Waking up so suddenly would certainly jostle tender injuries.

That's all it was, right?

As McG grabbed her other hand, Amir set to calming her down. Preach hadn't come back yet, which was another concern entirely, but they just had to focus on the here and now. They'd have to make do without the steady presence of their older teammate.

Amir tightened his hold on Jaz's hand, leaning in closer.

He knew what to blame for half of her panic. He knew what she needed to hear.

"You're okay. You're fine," he muttered gently. "Top is just down the hall. You didn't leave him. He's just down the hall."

At first, it didn't quite register with her. She kept crying out and flailing, clearly confused amidst the pain and exhaustion.

"Jaz," Amir said firmly. "Jaz, you stayed with him. You stayed with him. He's just down the hall."

She quieted a little, squirming as she gasped for air.

"You didn't leave him. Top is just down the hall," Amir repeated, holding her hand tightly between both of his. "Breathe. Relax."

Her breathing slowed, finding something closer to a healthy rhythm. Her hand clung to Amir's, and she continued to squirm where she lay, though not nearly with the same violence as before.

"Wh're 'm I?" she huffed, looking to Amir before glancing at the others in the room. McG slyly slid away from her side, again helping to stitch up her leg.

"We're at the closest hospital," Amir answered patiently.

"An' Top?" She shifted again, face pinched tightly. Breath still coming hard.

"He's in surgery."

A beat of silence.

"'S he 'kay?" Her words melted together, another sign she wasn't quite herself.

Amir wasn't exactly sure how to answer, but he figured honesty was best. "We're not sure yet. Preach went down to where he is. I'm sure he's keeping an eye on things."

Jaz nodded, wincing more sharply.

Amir frowned. "What is it? Does your leg still hurt?" Maybe the local wasn't quite working.

She shook her head, sucking air in through her teeth. "No, m'side . . . hurts." Her voice was tight, and her breaths became measured, as if she was trying to bury the pain with what little focus she had left. Jaz's breath hitched sharply, and Amir's eyes met McG's.

The medic drew closer to her side. "You mind if I take a look?"

When Jaz shook her head dizzily, he carefully pulled up the hem of her shirt. Spectacular bruising painted her side.

McG pursed his lips.

"What is it?" Amir asked quietly, his large eyes wide with concern.

McG turned to one of the medical personnel, his expression serious. "She's going to need surgery. She's got an internal bleed."

Jaz's fingers tightened weakly around Amir's, and his own body stiffened at the news. "What?"

As a nurse ran from the room, McG turned back to Jaz and took another look at her side before meeting her eyes. Amir could see the urgency in his posture, but McG still managed some semblance of calm. "Okay, Jaz, I need you to just relax. It's going to be fine. They're going to take you into surgery, but you've got nothing to worry about. They're going to patch you up, okay?"

She nodded, but her eyes were getting foggy again, and her head was starting to droop a little. Amir's chest tightened. His worry doubled—tripled, even. Shit, this was hard. Shouldering this terror while being constantly bombarded with the next harsh blow. He was at his limit. He couldn't take any more of this.

"Amir, you've gotta stay here," McG muttered, looking apologetically at the ex-spy. "I'm sorry, man. But they'll need all the space they can get."

Amir ignored the burn in his eyes. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. "You'll keep an eye on her, right?"

"You know I will," McG answered softly.

Between them, Jaz groaned in pain, and nurses started to bustle around her to prepare her for movement. Seeing his cue, Amir reluctantly released his hold on Jaz's hand and moved back and out of the way. He and McG looked at each other, a silent promise between them.

Then Jaz was pushed out of the room with McG at her side.

And everyone was gone.

Amir was left in a vacant, quiet room.

He felt useless. His hands were empty. Unused. He wished there was something he could do. He wished he had some power to help.

But right now, the only thing he could do was wait.

Breathing deeply to compose himself, he thought about Preach. The man still hadn't returned, and that frightened Amir more than he was willing to admit. If there was good news, Preach would've came back to tell the rest of the team.

If there was bad news . . .

Amir didn't dare speculate. That usually did more damage than good. And he couldn't handle any more damage.

Overwhelmed by the day's events, he dropped into a chair, holding his head in his hands. He was tired. So tired. It reminded him of Preach's coma, of how he'd felt then. Useless. Empty. Helpless.

He found comfort in being of service. When Jaz was captured, he could at least put his energy toward finding clues. He had something to _do. _And when Adam disappeared into the forests of China, he could at least take steps to help his team leader from the shadows.

Here . . . he was no medic. No surgeon. Here, he was just a worried teammate with empty hands and hours of useless time.

Amir's eyes burned again, and he quickly blinked it away. Maybe he couldn't do anything for Jaz or Top. He couldn't even help McG.

But he could at least be there for Preach. They could wait together, hoping and praying for the best.

That was something, wasn't it?

Amir dropped his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. With a sigh, he stood, wandering out of the room. He spotted Preach further down the hall, leaning stiffly against the wall as he stared straight ahead.

There was something in Preach's expression Amir had never seen before. A vulnerability that was different from Preach's usual humble air.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Amir apprehensively approached the older man, unsure of what he'd find. When he got close enough, he slowed, standing next to the older man as he followed Preach's gaze. His lips parted in surprise as his eyes forlornly drank in the scene.

He was watching Top's surgery. And hell, if Adam didn't look half dead as it was.

Composing himself, Amir leaned up against the wall beside Preach, staring through the same OR windows. "How's it going?"

The other man didn't even turn to look at him. "He flatlined. Took them a few tries to get him back." The words were flat. Measured. Intended to mask Preach's true emotions.

Amir tensed at the news, turning wide eyes to Preach. "What?" Another blow. Another punch to the gut.

The ex-spy watched Preach blink once. Twice. Several more times. Focused on staying composed. But he didn't say another word.

Sighing heavily, Amir bowed his head and stared at the ground. This was hell. This was literal hell.

"How's Jaz?" the larger man asked, his arms folded tightly against his chest.

Amir shook his head, drawing in a breath through his nose. "They had to take her to surgery."

Preach frowned. "Is she okay?"

"Not sure yet. McG said it was internal bleeding."

A defeated silence fell over the two of them, weighing heavily on their heads and shoulders.

"So I guess we wait then," Amir muttered sullenly.

Preach nodded. "It's all we can do."

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After some encouragement from nurses and other staff, Amir and Preach had finally returned to Jaz's empty room to wait. For hours, they sat in the cheap, poorly cushioned chairs, staring at white walls to pass the time. But their minds were with Jaz. And Adam. And sometimes even McG.

The halls had quieted as the evening settled in, leaving an eerie stillness behind. All that remained was the occasional tapping of computer keys and Preach's and Amir's own thoughts.

Just when they were sure this day would never come to an end, they heard footsteps.

And a familiar voice.

"You did great. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a few weeks."

McG. Jaz must be out of surgery.

Preach and Amir stood as Jaz was wheeled back into the room. She looked exhausted and out of it, but somehow better than before. The lines of pain on her face were softened and nearly gone, and for once in the last several hours, she looked . . . peaceful.

"Top?" she croaked.

McG smiled sadly at her side. "Still in surgery. But he's tough. You know that."

The medic glanced up at his other teammates, looking a little less worse for wear. Knowing Jaz was going to be fine seemed to have lifted a lot of the burden from his shoulders, but the lingering sorrow over Adam was still there.

"How is she?" Amir asked quietly, taking a couple steps toward Jaz.

"She's all stitched up, and everything's looking good," McG answered, his smirk small and emptier than usual. "We'll just have to make sure she doesn't overdo it before she's all healed up." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Any word on Top?"

"Not yet," Preach replied, his voice low. He settled a gentle hand on McG's back. "Take a walk with me." Suspicious, the medic obeyed, and the two of them stepped out into the hallway, leaving Amir and Jaz alone in the room.

Amir knew what Preach meant to tell McG. About Adam's surgery. And he hoped McG had the strength to take it. It had been a long day. Possibly more so for McG than Amir could ever know.

The shorter man looked at Jaz. She was fighting to stay awake but was clearly on the edge of unconsciousness. Fortunately, she was too out of it to catch Preach's questionable behavior. Amir pulled a chair up to Jaz's bedside.

"Go to sleep, Jaz. I'm sure Top will be out of surgery by the time you wake up, so might as well pass the time," he muttered softly, slowly taking a seat.

"W'ke m'up if somethin' 'appens?"

Her words slurred together heavily, but Amir managed to decipher it.

"Of course. You have my word," he promised, offering a small smile.

Satisfied, she gave in to her exhaustion, falling deeply asleep. And he watched over her.

To be useful.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Yes, shame on me for the delay. But I hope everyone had wonderful holidays. And may 2020 be an excellent year for you all!_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

When news finally came, it was what they'd hoped for. They said he'd be fine. They said he'd recover.

As long as there weren't anymore complications.

Only a half hour after Jaz's return, they'd wheeled Adam in, filling the empty space on the other side of Jaz's room—reminding the team of how simple the hospital was. There was no specialized wing. No distinct place for the severely wounded. No high-tech equipment. Just passionate medical staff making the most of what they had on hand.

And Adam looked like shit.

The blood loss had taken a heavy toll on him, and the strain on his body over the last twelve hours had done even more. The dust and blood had been delicately cleaned away, but that only managed to further expose just how terrible he looked.

Some of his fingers were taped or splinted, his hairline was adorned with a few stitches, and the bruises . . . they were everywhere. All they could see was his arms, neck, and face, but it wasn't hard to imagine what kind of beating his back and chest had taken.

For several minutes, they couldn't speak. There was nothing to say.

Yes, the staff said he'd recover barring any unpleasant surprises. But looking at him, there was no reason to celebrate. Because the whole picture was wrong. All wrong.

"Jaz can't see him like this," Amir muttered, eyes glued to Adam's colorless face. Purple smudges were smeared beneath his eyes, standing out starkly against pale skin. Deep bruises dotted his jawline. His cheekbone. He looked like he was already halfway to the morgue.

Something Jaz couldn't handle right now.

"We let her sleep," McG suggested. Firmly. "Let her sleep. Pull the curtain around. Unless we tell her, she won't even know he's here. We can just tell her she's got a roommate. We don't have to say who just yet."

Preach shook his head. "We can't lie to her."

"Maybe this time . . . we have to," Amir huffed, pressing a fist to his mouth as he glanced at Jaz, then Adam.

McG took a deep breath, wearily rubbing at his eyes. "He looks like hell."

A beat of silence ticked by, the air heavy and tired.

"I . . . agree she shouldn't see him like this," Preach mumbled, folding his arms. "But I don't feel right lying to one of our own. We pull the curtain, but we tell her the truth."

Amir thought for a moment before slowly nodding. "I think that's a decent solution."

"It's still going to suck. She's not going to take it well," McG pointed out, his dark eyes soft.

"I know," Preach answered softly. "But it wouldn't be fair to keep everything from her."

Amir nodded again as McG carefully thought it over.

The medic looked at Preach. "Okay, we tell her. And we pull the curtain around."

The three men stood in silence, bodies still as they let it all sink in.

And once they'd pieced together their composure . . .

McG pulled the curtain.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"'S he out of surg'ry?" Jaz asked, only half conscious. Amir was sat beside her, as he'd been all along. Near the curtain, McG stood with his arms folded, eyes to the floor. The two were prepared for a lot of push back, and truly, they couldn't be sure if they'd stay strong enough to resist it. But Preach was just on the other side of the curtain—with Adam. It was a comfort to know they had a third man if it came to that.

"He . . . is," Amir answered slowly. Quietly.

Jaz frowned, quickly growing more aware, though still weak. "Where is he? What's wrong?"

"He's fine," the ex-spy said quickly, mustering up a small smile. "They say he should recover fully if everything goes well."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"

Amir glanced down at his hands, his fingers twisting together as he organized his thoughts. She wasn't going to like this. None of them were. "He's actually . . . here. In the room."

Jaz immediately tried to sit upright, barely managing to prop herself up on her elbows. Amir rested a hand on her shoulder, quietly urging her to stay calm and take it easy. She stilled. If only out of respect for her teammate.

"He's here, but . . ." He paused, sighing heavily. "We don't think you should see him. Not yet."

Her frown turned into a mild glare. "I think that should be something for me to decide, don't you?"

Amir's expression grew more apologetic, and she did her best not to resent it. But she did. Staring at the softness in his eyes, she could feel her blood boiling. She didn't need babying. Never did. And no matter how much she trusted Amir, she couldn't stop herself from despising him for this. At least in this moment.

"He looks pretty bad, Jaz. And after everything that's happened . . . it would be better if we gave it a little time. You're still recovering, so let's give your body some time to heal first."

She looked to McG. His gaze was also apologetic, though steelier than Amir's.

"We?" she croaked. "'We' implies I got a choice. It doesn't sound like you're giving me one."

A flash of pain crossed Amir's face. "Jaz . . ."

"No, I don't want to hear it," she spat, her voice low. Venomous. "You think that just because I'm stuck here with a busted leg that you can decide what I can and can't do? I didn't ask for that. And nothing's given you the right to do that. I want to see him."

The look on Amir's face was her answer.

She seethed silently.

Painfully, she settled back against the bed, gritting her teeth as she stared up at the ceiling. Adam was just on the other side of the curtain, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could hardly get out of bed. And even if she did, her teammates would stop her before she got anywhere.

Admittedly, her teammates' decision to shield her somewhat scared her. How bad did Adam really look? She didn't want to think about it.

But she couldn't help it.

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It was hours before the guys left the room.

Jaz had feigned sleeping, turning her back to her teammates. She was exhausted, and she actually felt worse as time went on. But she wasn't going to rest until she saw Adam with her own eyes.

So when Amir finally convinced McG and Preach to take a food break, she saw her chance.

Gathering all the strength she had, Jaz managed to get up on her elbows and painfully climb out of bed. Every movement was slow and difficult, but she pressed on. Her body ached, and the room felt cold, but it didn't matter. She had to get to Top.

Using Amir's chair for support, she shakily stood on one leg and struggled to pull open the curtain. She had to fully outstretch her arm to reach the fabric, and once she'd managed to grasp it with her fingers, it took her several minutes to finally pull it enough to nearly unveil the other side of the room.

With one final tug, the curtain was pulled aside.

And there was Adam.

Jaz nearly fell to the floor. Every bit of energy she had left was sucked out of her by the sight before her. Adam. As strong as they come. So battered and bruised, a stranger wouldn't recognize him. But underneath the pale pallor and bruising, she could still tell it was him.

She hated it. Yet she forced herself to look. After his efforts and sacrifices, he deserved that much.

Slowly and gingerly, she grabbed her IV pole and limped her way to Preach's abandoned chair. Every step sent shooting pain up her leg, but she hardly felt it. She was too busy staring at the neat black stitches along his hairline. The dark, sunken circles under his eyes. The deep purple bruises dotting his body.

She dropped heavily into the chair, eyes still roving over her fearless leader.

He looked broken.

Her own body ached, throbbing painfully with every second. And she felt foggy and weak. But compared to what he'd been put through, it was nothing. She felt ashamed for ever feeling miserable in her own pain and injury. Adam had it so much worse.

Jaz slumped in the chair, feeling even sicker now that she was out of bed. And cold. Why was it so cold?

"Jaz?" Amir's gentle voice came from the doorway, his tone a patient mix of concern and fear. Even without looking, she knew Preach and McG were just behind him.

There were a handful of footsteps, weaved together in a messy jumble.

"You should be in bed," Amir chided softly. Kindly. Jaz had expected anger. Frustration. Heated scolding.

Somehow, this felt so much worse.

"Come on." McG. More kindness. She felt his hand on her arm.

Then a pause.

The hand moved to her neck, cupping it.

"You're feeling a little warm, Jaz," he remarked, a twinge of worry in his voice. "You feel okay?"

She didn't know how to answer that. Her CO was battered and unconscious in front of her, and she had a few stitches and bruises of her own. Wasn't she supposed to feel terrible?

"I feel like someone who got caught on the edge of an airstrike," she mumbled, gaze still glued to Adam's face.

There was some movement behind her as McG muttered, "Help me get her back to bed."

Hands gripped her arms, carefully leading her away from Adam. Someone else was moving her IV pole. And as they led her away, she kept her eyes on Adam for as long as she could, drinking in every scratch and every bruise.

Dizzy and tired, she obediently sat on her bed, frowning slightly as McG looked her over. She glanced at him. At her teammates. Saw their worry. Their sorrow. And then her eyes were back on Adam.

Amir made a move to close the curtain again.

"No," she said firmly, her eyes hard but pleading. "Leave it."

The ex-spy silently complied, nodding his head a little with a grimacing smile.

For a fleeting moment, she wished they would yell at her. Be angry at her for disobeying. It felt deserved. Necessary.

Maybe because seeing Adam put it all into perspective. She could immediately see why the guys had been so protective of her.

And she could see how hard it had been for them.

She felt guilty. For being angry with them. For disobeying. They were just trying to spare her from something painful. Something that was thrust upon them without notice. Or choice.

Choosing this kind of pain? Felt like she was slapping them in the face.

And still, she'd choose it again. And again. She knew that was part of the reason the guys were being so kind. Part of why they didn't scold her.

It may have mainly been because seeing Adam like that was punishment enough. But she knew it was also because they'd choose that pain too. It was something they all had to do. Something they _wanted _to do. Because Adam deserved that respect. That attention. He deserved that kind of sacrifice.

So they understood that it was less out of rebellion and more out of loyalty.

"Mind if I take a look at your leg?" McG asked, his voice quiet.

She pulled her gaze from Adam, meeting the medic's eyes. All she could offer was a small nod.

McG carefully peeled away the bandaging, unwrapping her leg slowly. When he finally uncovered the gash, she could see all the signs.

Infection. Her leg had gotten infected.

It explained why she felt so cold.

Fever.

Of course, McG kept his cool, giving nothing away other than a brief dip at the corners of his mouth. He patted her leg. "Sit tight. I'm going to go grab somebody."

She looked to her left. Amir was already sitting beside her—she hadn't even seen him drop into his usual spot.

"He'll be fine, Jaz. Just have to give it time," he muttered, sighing as he leaned forward in his chair. Jaz didn't say anything. Instead, she looked past Amir to Adam, again staring at the patches of purpling skin.

Her head felt heavy, and her gaze seemed to blur, but she couldn't look away.

She didn't want to.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Preach watched Amir carefully dab Jaz's face with a cool cloth. It had been hours. More hours of just waiting. Adam was still down for the count. And Jaz was even worse for wear than before. Things were supposed to get better. Not worse. And yet, they took two steps back for every step forward.

Amir looked tired. McG looked exhausted.

And yet, it was hard for any of them to get some sleep. A nagging fear sat at the forefront of their minds. Fear of something going wrong. Fear of missing it.

But they needed rest.

It'd been a long couple of days, and to truly be present, they needed some shuteye.

"Why don't you two go find a couple of spare beds?" Preach coaxed, meeting McG's eyes. The medic held his gaze for some time, as if thinking about the suggestion. Trying to think of a way out of it.

"I can't leave," McG finally muttered, glancing at Jaz. At Adam.

Preach shifted in his chair. "Nothing's happening right now, and I can keep an eye on things. Believe it or not, this is not my first rodeo."

"But you shouldn't have to do it alone," Amir said quietly, pressing the damp cloth against Jaz's neck. He didn't even look back at the older man, instead focusing on his task.

"I know I don't have to," Preach sighed, leaning back. "But I will so you two can get some sleep."

Amir set the cloth aside, his back to Preach. A thoughtful silence followed as the ex-spy and McG mulled it over.

"You'll let us know if you need us?" McG asked, still unsure. They all knew it was a stupid question. But Preach still offered a shallow nod in response, patient as always.

A few silent minutes ticked by.

Then McG stood.

"Alright. I think I'll get a little sleep, then." He looked at Amir. Amir looked back.

"Fine," the shorter man sighed, pushing up from his chair. He turned to Preach with his brows slightly furrowed. "But if you get tired, wake us up."

Preach smiled softly. "You got it."

And with that, they left in search of some proper rest.

Breathing deeply, Preach slowly got up from his seat, moving toward Amir's empty perch. He lowered himself into the seat, picking up the cloth from its shallow bowl of water. Wringing the extra water out, he gently pressed the damp cloth against Jaz's fevered face.

Yes, he was tired.

But this was his family. He'd happily make sacrifices for his family.

Minutes ticked by as he stuck by Jaz's side. He gave up on the damp cloth, instead watching both her and Adam's monitors. His fingers were pruney. His back was stiff. And minutes turned to hours.

Looking back at the pink flush on Jaz's cheeks, Preach decided it was time for a fresh bowl of water. Possibly a fresh cloth. And definitely a strong cup of coffee.

He stood up, quietly taking the bowl of water and cloth. Then just as quietly, he left the room, ready for a jolt of caffeine and a chance to stretch his legs.

Behind him, there was only silence.

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He felt . . . strange. Heavy. Foggy. Achy.

Everything hurt, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was.

Clinging to the steady mechanical buzz of old machines, he pulled himself out of unconsciousness, managing to pry his eyes open to slits.

Adam squinted against the dim light of the room, blinking away the blurs in his vision.

Where was he?

Fighting his way through the cobwebs, he forced his eyes open further, focusing on the murky images before him. The picture began to clear, making way for fine lines and sharper shapes.

Ceiling . . . tiles?

That didn't offer much. Drawing on the bit of energy he had, he managed to turn his head to one side. The steady bounce of a heartbeat met his eyes, forming a ragged line against a black background.

A hospital. It explained why he felt like an old, wrung out dishrag.

On his other side, there was a small whimper. He frowned, confused. His mind was still cloudy, and it took a minute for his brain to register what the sound actually was.

Slowly, he turned his head to the right, eyes falling on a familiar face.

Jaz.

Blue eyes roved over the scene, sluggishly catching on the larger details. She had a monitor hooked up to her too. And she didn't look well.

She didn't look well.

Adam looked around, hoping to find someone to help. There was no one. It was just him and her.

His head swam, his body felt weak. He couldn't get to her. Not like this.

"Jaz," he tried. All that came out was a whisper, scraping past his sandpaper throat and dry mouth. He tried to swallow the dryness away, but it did very little. His vision wobbled and blurred, and he attempted to blink it away.

Jaz whimpered again, lost in a dream.

"Jaz," he wheezed, wishing he could do more. He kept pushing the fog away, only for it to come back with a vengeance. He wasn't well enough to help her, and that very thought was agonizing. But there was no one else.

Somewhere nearby, he heard heavy footfalls. Then a pause.

"Top?"

He looked toward the door, blinking past bleeding colors and blurry lines. Somehow, he could make out a familiar outline.

"Preach?" he rasped, still struggling to speak.

The figure came toward him, quickly becoming clearer and clearer.

"Good to see you awake."

Adam looked him right in the eye, then looked over at Jaz, hoping to get the message across.

Preach caught on quickly, looking over at Jaz. Another small sound of distress escaped her, and the larger man was at her side in an instant.

Adam could hear Preach gently coaxing her awake, attempting to free her from whatever bad dream or discomfort she was trapped in. And as he listened, he worked hard to get to some semblance of awareness. But it was apparent his body had gone through more than he remembered. He was struggling to recalibrate, wrapped in swaths of a familiar exhaustion. The type that follows trauma.

Gathering whatever strength he could, he shakily brought a hand to his face, wincing at the gentle pull of pain at his side. Confused, he put his hand down, feeling his side. Through the blankets and sheets, he felt a stiff line pressed against his side. He knew this feeling. But his mind couldn't quite grasp it. He frowned. Then it clicked.

Stitches. A line of stitches.

He closed his eyes, pushing against the cottony pressure of an unwell body. It would be easy to fall back asleep, but he wanted to be here. With Jaz. With Preach.

A hand settled on his shoulder. "You okay, Top?"

Adam realized he was still frowning. He opened his eyes, gaze meeting Preach's. "Fine," he whispered, again trying to swallow past the drought in his throat. "Water?"

Preach smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

He turned to leave, but glancing at Jaz, Adam moved quickly to grab his wrist. It flared up sharp aches and bruises, but that didn't matter right now. The larger man looked back.

"Jaz?"

Preach could hear every ounce of worry in Adam's voice, sparing a second to marvel at Adam's dedication to his team. "She's fine. It was just a dream. She's sleeping peacefully now."

Satisfied, Adam nodded, letting go of Preach. He settled back into the mattress, having used every bit of strength he had left. He couldn't even find the energy to curl his fingers.

"I'll be right back," Preach assured him, turning again to leave. Adam watched him go with heavy eyelids, feeling the true weight of his injuries.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: **__At last! The final chapter! I hope I've done it justice. Thanks, all, for sticking with it as I've slowly rolled along. And I shall be back with another tale! My brother's getting married this weekend, and it marks the end of a busy, busy handful of months, so hopefully, I'll have more time to meself to do a little writing. You're magnificent. Thanks for stopping by._

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

McG was startled awake by a shake to his shoulder. Alarmed, he perched himself on his elbow, blearily blinking in the dim light of the room.

"Top's awake."

The words catapulted him into wakefulness, and he swiftly twisted himself to plant his feet on the floor. Amir was at his side, waiting excitedly with messy curls and crumpled clothes.

"When did you find out?" McG muttered wearily, hastily pulling on his boots.

"Just now," Amir answered. "Preach was just here."

McG didn't bother tying the laces, opting to instead follow Amir into the next room over. Jaz's room. Top's room.

As he entered, he gave Jaz a quick glance, thrilled to see her color and temperature improving. In a minute, he'd give her a more thorough checkup. But right now . . . right now, he had to see Top. Had to see him alive and somewhat well. He had to know that things were looking up.

He stationed himself next to Amir at Adam's bedside, thankful as the shorter man moved aside enough to let McG work.

Adam's eyes were open. Foggy and a little confused, but open.

He made it.

McG hadn't failed him. _He made it._

"How're you feeling?" he asked, tearing his eyes away to look at the monitor. Everything looked . . . better. For once, things were looking up.

"Fine."

Adam's voice came out as a ragged whisper, far from his usual commanding tone. Without a word, Preach slipped an ice chip into Adam's mouth, for which the team leader took gratefully.

"Doesn't look it. You better not be lying to me, man." Despite himself, McG smiled. And it felt so good to stretch those muscles. He wanted to be frustrated with Adam for trying to pretend everything was okay, but he wasn't. Because it meant Top was still Top.

"Just . . . tired," Adam managed, looking weary and worn.

"That's to be expected," McG replied. Carefully, he inspected the stitches on Adam's hairline. They looked good. Neat. Clean. Healing. He moved on to examine the blond's fingers, rechecking the taping, the one splint. Perfect. "Mind if I take a look at your side?"

Adam shook his head softly in permission, closing his eyes with a furrowed brow.

McG moved to his other side, Preach stepping away to give him room. Carefully, the medic pulled down the sheet and blankets, pushing aside the hospital gown. He was met with another row of neat stitches. No sign of infection. No sign of problems.

He let out a relieved sigh. And smiled wider.

Replacing the gown and covers, he rested a hand on Adam's bicep. "Everything's looking good, Top. At this rate, we'll have you back at base in no time."

"Great," Adam rasped with a slight smile. His eyelids were drooping further, already giving in to exhaustion.

McG patted his arm. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest." Satisfied and in high spirits, McG made his way to Jaz, hoping for more of the same good news. Behind him, Amir and Preach dutifully waited for Adam to fall back asleep, keeping him company as he stubbornly fought against unconsciousness. Typical Top. McG smirked.

He readjusted his focus, now turning his attention to Jaz's leg. Her temperature was looking better, and she looked healthier than she had a handful of hours before. He pushed the blankets aside and began unwrapping the gauze from her wound. Peeling away the last layer, he was ecstatic to find that the swelling and redness had dwindled.

Finally, he could relax. Finally, they were both on a solid road to recovery. For the first time in days, he could lay his fears to rest.

Gathering fresh bandaging from nearby supplies, he rewrapped her wound and tucked her leg back under the sheets.

Everything was fine.

_Everything was fine._

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Amir anxiously sat by Jaz's bed. He wanted to wake her to tell her the news, but since Adam had fallen back asleep, McG had urged him to let her sleep.

So he waited it out.

A few hours had passed as he maintained his place beside her. He wanted to make sure he was here to tell her as soon as she woke up. So here he'd sit. Watching the minutes tick by.

McG was already asleep again in a chair on the far side of Adam. With the way he was sitting, he'd definitely have a few cricks and aches of his own. But like the rest of them, he probably wouldn't care.

Preach had gone to get some solid sleep in the room next door. Satisfied that everything was going smoothly, he'd finally felt at ease enough to lay down.

So Amir was the only one left awake. Keeping watch. In the quiet.

His eyes traced the wall across from Jaz, finding every imperfection and line before his vision blurred into a daze.

He started at the sounds of a soft groan. One he'd heard before, though it was usually coated in a shade of annoyance. Amir looked up.

And caught Jaz's open eyes with his.

"Amir?" she croaked, frowning in confusion.

He smiled. "Yeah, it's me." Silence ticked by peacefully. Comfortably. "How are you feeling?"

With a wince, Jaz shifted a bit, weakly attempting to find a more comfortable position. "Feel like shit. Thanks for asking."

"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "I've got news for you."

Jaz froze, her hair messily splayed across the pillow. Her gaze shifted anxiously to Adam. "What news?"

Patiently, Amir smiled. Warmly. A genuine smile. "He woke up. He's going to be fine."

For a whole minute, Jaz didn't say anything. She just stared. At Amir. Waiting for him to take it back or admit it was a lie. When it finally clicked, she wasn't sure if she wanted to punch him or hug him.

But both sounded entirely exhausting.

Instead, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Amir leveled a look at her. "I would've if I could've. Don't forget, you're a patient here too." She rolled her eyes, unwilling to accept it as an honest answer. "And really, he wasn't awake for long."

He offered her another smile, and she couldn't help but return it. She was trying to keep it together and stay calm and collected. But it was such a massive relief, she could melt into a handful of silent tears. Though, not here. In front of her guys, she had to keep it cool.

She didn't want them to worry about her anymore.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Two days passed without incident, instead making way to true recovery. Preach, Amir, and McG had begun to relax, finally finding time for true, dreamless slumber, and somehow, Adam and Jaz managed to miss each other—mostly because Adam slept most of his days and nights away anyway.

But today . . . today she wouldn't miss it. Jaz was feeling stronger than she had in a while, and she'd finally convinced McG to let her sit with Adam. Her leg throbbed, and her side stung, but she wouldn't be anywhere else. She was going to sit in the hard plastic chair until she finally saw the familiar blue eyes for herself.

Sensing they were unneeded, the rest of the team had wandered off in search of a distraction. They didn't mention where they were going, and by the looks of things, they didn't even really know where they were headed.

But she was grateful to them all the same.

After a long half hour, she was already aching to get back into bed, and she began to wonder if maybe she wasn't ready to commit to long-term sitting after all. With a huff, she adjusted her posture, hoping to take some of the strain and pressure off her side. Wincing hard, she sucked air through her teeth, determined to stick it out.

But hell, it wasn't pleasant.

"Sure you should be up already?"

Jaz's head snapped to look at Adam.

And he stared blearily back.

"Top?"

He frowned wearily. "Preeetty sure that's still me."

Jaz didn't say anything. She couldn't. She was too busy focusing on how he was alive. _Alive_.

"Hey," Adam tried, somewhat worried by her silence. "Hey, Jaz. I'm fine. Look, I'm fine." His voice was still raspy and weak, and his body was still feeble and worn out. But he reached out a shaky hand, urging her to take it. "I'm fine."

Without thinking, she took his outstretched hand, absorbing the warmth against her skin. Basking in the comforting pressure of fingers around hers.

"I'm fine," he rasped again, determined to convince her. "We made it."

Uninvited tears welled up in her eyes, and she angrily blinked them back. "What were you thinking? Tackling a man with a gun like that."

His brow furrowed as he stared at her intently. "Do you really have to ask?"

No. She didn't. She knew exactly why he'd done it. Knew that he would protect her—protect any of his team members—at whatever cost. She knew exactly why he'd flung his injured self at an armed threat.

And for a moment, she wished he wasn't so driven to hurl himself in between them and danger. If only so he could live longer.

"Well, maybe you should stop," she muttered crossly.

He smiled softly, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. "Never."

She let out a playful scoff and a grin, just to keep from seeing the darker layers behind his answer. Right now, she just needed a little peace.

But when had she ever been so lucky?

"Truthfully, I wish you hadn't been there in the first place." Adam's voice was low. Serious. Regretful.

Unsolicited anger zapped through her, tightening every muscle in her body. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. "No, I should have."

He took a deep breath, and the very action seemed to age him ten years. She paused, taking a moment to look at him. To _really _look at him. She could see the guilt in his eyes. In the slight purse to his lips.

As always, he was berating himself for things that were completely out of his control.

"I just wish you didn't have to go through all that," he croaked, looking away. "We should've had a quick exit plan just in case things went south. I should've thought of that."

"Top," Jaz huffed with a humorless smile, "it was just recon. We were only there to collect information. We didn't need an exit strategy. There wasn't supposed to be any danger."

He looked thoughtful, but she knew it was only for her benefit. He was good at that: convincing you that he was fine just as his mask began to crack.

She sighed, looking at the ceiling. "For hell's sake, Top. It's not like you threw me into danger." Shifting in her seat, she returned her gaze to him. "I mean, you actually tried to _push me away _from it. Which was a completely _stupid _thing to do, by the way."

Blue eyes found hers, his face pinched in slight bewilderment.

Jaz pointed a finger at him, eyes wide with affectionate anger. "If we're ever that close to an airstrike again, _never_," she jabbed her finger toward him, "do that again. You got me?" He didn't answer, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a reply.

After several seconds, he finally settled on, "I'm sorry."

Folding her arms, Jaz set to staring him down. "You should be. You're going to feel those bruises for weeks."

He smiled, shaking his head. "I don't doubt that."

"Don't come crying to me when you're too sore to even move," she teased. "I won't feel even a little bad."

Adam laughed, a warm sound from deep in his chest. It was quieter than usual and gravelly, but it was genuine. And that's really all Jaz wanted.

With a smile, he patted her forearm. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Jaz."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, brushing everything in a warm, golden glow. Outside, Humvees and trucks growled past as they went about their daily business.

After several days, the team was finally back home. Back at their humble quarters with dusty floors and stiff cots.

And as most of them slept under familiar covers, Amir was set to making breakfast.

Rising early, he'd already gone into town to pick up fresh ingredients and supplies before raiding their small garden. After days of nervous worry and recovery and a long afternoon of weary transport, he felt the team needed a good meal to commemorate their good fortune.

Especially Jaz and Adam.

As they journeyed home, both attempted to hide their discomfort. But it was still clear as day. Every rattle of turbulence sparked quiet winces and tight expressions. Walking was clearly painful for both—and energy-sucking for Adam.

So it was good to be home.

And it was good to be in the kitchen again, making himself useful.

Down the hall, he heard the familiar click of crutches as Jaz deftly made her way into the kitchen. Amir spared her a glance over his shoulder as she settled into a chair. A confused frown marred her face. "Morning, Jaz."

"Damn, Amir, when did you get up this morning?"

He moved to quickly chop some fresh herbs, shooting her a smile. "Does it matter?"

"A little bit. You should be getting some sleep like the rest of us."

"I will. Later. But I thought a decent breakfast was first priority," he replied warmly, a slight curve to his lips.

Behind him, Jaz smiled. She knew why he did it. They all did. It was just Amir's quiet way of supporting them, and none of them would ever complain.

"Well then, I'll gather up the troops," she volunteered, grabbing her crutches before pushing herself back up. With a practiced ease, she moved down the hallway, knocking on the first door.

"Get up! Breakfast!" she announced loudly, moving down to the next door. She knocked again, offering the same announcement.

Then she wandered across the hall to the final door.

Her knuckles rapped against the door, more gently than she had the others. "Top?"

No answer. She knocked a little harder. "Hey, Top?" Cautiously, she twisted the knob, pushing her way inside.

He was lying with his back to her, neatly tucked under his blanket, barely stirring.

"Amir's making breakfast. Thought you'd like some," she said quietly as she approached, the noise from her crutches practically echoing through the room.

With some difficulty, he turned onto his back, staring up wearily with a furrowed brow. "Breakfast?" he croaked. While he was clearly tired, it looked like he'd been up for a while. He was probably hurting too much to sleep well.

"Yeah, you hungry?"

From the look on his face, she knew he wasn't. But that wouldn't stop him from pretending. "I could eat."

Jaz huffed, resting on her crutches as she watched him struggle to prop himself on an elbow. "Need me to get McG or Preach?"

"No, I'm good," he mumbled, stubbornly moving to get up. Just from the looks of him, she knew he felt stiff and sore. Probably more than she could even fathom. She had her own bruises, of course. But she hadn't been shocked back to life.

Her stomach turned. She cleared her throat.

"Are you sure you don't need help? I don't mind grabbing someone."

"I can manage," he huffed, setting his feet on the floor. Then he took a minute. Then two.

"Top," Jaz sighed, leveling a look at him.

He didn't even glance in her direction. "Alright, fine." She smiled at the familiar bite to his tone before turning to walk to the door.

Sticking her head out, she quickly laid eyes on McG. "Hey. Could use some help in here."

With a quick nod, McG made his way over, slipping through the doorway. "Need a hand there, Top?"

Adam merely gave him a frustrated look, shades of embarrassment and exhaustion behind it. Unable to resist, McG grinned, dipping down to help Adam to his feet.

"I love a good dose of moody Top in the morning," he teased, grunting a little as he got Adam standing. If Adam's pinched expression was anything to go by, it wasn't a painless endeavor in the least.

Adam shot him a glare. "Ha ha."

The medic chuckled, softly patting Adam's shoulder. "Need help to the kitchen?"

"No," Adam answered quickly. Firmly. Jaz tried to suppress a smile. "Get the hell out of here, McG. I'll see your ass at the table."

"Yessir." McG couldn't keep the wobble of laughter out of his voice, snickering even as he casually wandered out of the room.

Jaz watched Adam attempt to smooth down his hair in vain, one corner of her mouth dipped in a smirk. "Somebody's crabby this morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Adam muttered, taking a deep breath before stiffly walking toward the door. She followed dutifully behind, watching the way he limped and held onto his ribs. Her smile faltered.

"You sure you should be walking by yourself?"

As they made their way into the hallway, she managed to get beside him. He'd given up on the hair and was just working on making it to the kitchen.

"Who the hell knows," he groused. Man, he was in a bad mood. "But I'm at least gonna try."

"We'd be worried if you didn't," she chuckled, trying to readjust her crutches to take some of the pull off her stitched side.

"How are you doing?"

The question wasn't totally unexpected. It was such a stalwart regular in Adam's vernacular that the team as a whole had grown accustomed to it. Sure, when she was new to the team, it bugged Jaz how much he asked and checked in. She thought it was because he saw her as frail or weak somehow. But when she realized he was the same to everyone, she knew it was a sign of respect and loyalty. Then she appreciated it. Almost expected it. If the day ever came that he stopped asking, she'd be worried.

"I'm okay," she answered honestly. "Uncomfortable sometimes, but that's to be expected." They moved slowly, the warm sound of friendly bickering floating from the kitchen. Then she stopped. So Adam stopped.

Jaz turned to him, trying to figure how to say what she meant to say. She wasn't good at this. At the softer side of being a human.

"I know I said don't come to me when your hurting and stuff, but . . . are you okay?" At his somewhat surprised expression, she quickly continued. "I know yesterday was kind of a bumpy ride home, and you seem like you're in a lot of pain. And I mean, you . . ." She stopped. She shouldn't've gone this direction, but now she was here and she couldn't stop it. "You essentially died on the table. For a bit."

Hell, why were her eyes burning?

"It's okay to . . . to take it easy, you know," she finished awkwardly, braving direct eye contact. He stared back, wearing a patient but sympathetic smile. As if _she _was the one who had suffered more in all this.

And honestly, he probably believed that wholeheartedly.

With a wince, he lifted a hand to settle on her shoulder. "I'm good, Jaz. Just a little grumpy and beaten up, but I think I'll make it." He turned to walk again, his hand moving from her shoulder to her upper back. "For now, let's get to breakfast before McG gets too antsy."

She smirked. "Wouldn't want him to get hangry."

"Exactly," Adam laughed, stiffly taking one step at a time.  
It would be a while before he was fit enough for the field.

But at least he was on his feet again.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
